


Fractured

by writersinthevoid (kairos_system)



Series: Fractured/Hybrid [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: (at least everyone in chapter 1), Adaptation, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Female Character, Canon Bisexual Character, Christmas, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Episode: 2013 Xmas The Time of the Doctor, Episode: s07e14 The Name of the Doctor, Episode: s08e01 Deep Breath, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gen, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Mental Health Issues, Multiplicity/Plurality, Post-Episode: s07e14 The Name of the Doctor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-24 17:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9775142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kairos_system/pseuds/writersinthevoid
Summary: The Clara Oswald who jumped into the Doctor's Time Stream wasn't the same one as the one who came out. (Or: when Clara comes out of the Doctor's time stream, other Claras come with her, inside her head. Some of them have different ideas for how things should go. But they're all people with their own pasts.)Half a novel adaptation of sorts of Clara's arc, half an AU.





	1. Born to Save the Doctor

 

“Doctor! Please, please. I don’t know where I am.”

Different faces of the Doctor swirled all around her, but he and Clara weren’t the only people in the graveyard. Echoes of Clara’s own voice surrounded her — at least, that was what she thought she was hearing. A smug voice — “ _actually,_ she was called Nina” — an amused one — “Blimey, you really know how to sulk, don’t you?” and all around, “Run, you clever boy, and remember.”

“These are my ghosts. My past. Every good day, every bad day,” the Doctor — Clara’s Doctor this time, said, emerging in front of her.

A gust of wind knocked Clara to the ground. Bits of debris floated around. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?” she cried out, panicked.

“I’m inside my own time stream. It’s collapsing in on itself,” the Doctor answered.

“Well, get out then!”

“Not until I’ve got you.”

Clara looked around at the echoes of herself around the Doctor’s time stream, in various outfits and states of dress, holding themselves in different ways — saying some things she would never say. “I don’t even know who I am.”

The Doctor’s voice came, warm and comforting. “You’re my Impossible Girl. I’m sending you something. Not from my past, from yours. Look up. Look.”

The leaf Clara had parted with at Akhaten came floating down from the sky, landing on her hand. Some of the echoes of her leaned forward, interested.

“This is you, Clara. Everything you were or will be. Take it. You blew into this world on this leaf. Hold tight. It will take you home,”

Clara clutched the leaf, feeling herself fading out. If she didn’t manage to escape, would she just become another one of the echoes she was seeing around herself now? Not real, but real enough to save the Doctor?

“You can do it. I know you can,” Eleven’s voice came, but it was farther away.

“How?” Clara pleaded.

“Because it’s impossible. And you’re my Impossible Girl. How many times have you saved me, Clara? Just this once, just for the hell of it, let me save you. You have to trust me, Clara. I’m real. Just one more step.”

Clara took a step forward, and fell into the Doctor’s arms.

“Clara, my Clara,” the Doctor said, holding her head in his arms.

Clara felt her eyes closing unconsciously, felt herself drifting off into sleep. The Doctor picked Clara up in his arms, and walked out of the time stream.

Vastra, Jenny and River stood outside his time stream, watching with anxiety.

“You got her _back?_ ” Jenny squealed. She turned to Vastra with a big beam. “How?”

“I hope so,” the Doctor answered, walking over to River. He set Clara down in between him and River, and she immediately leaned against River, still exhausted.

“God knows how that looks,” Eleven said with a smile.

“When you say you hope so…” Vastra said, and then hesitated. “Which Clara did you get back?”

“Hopefully, the right one,” the Doctor said, patting Clara on the shoulder.

“Theta. Theta Sigma,” Clara said, looking towards the Doctor with a goofy smile on her face. “And I… and I know your real name now.”

“Maybe not here, considering how that secret was the one that got us into this mess in the first place,” River said with a laugh.

“Okay,” Clara said, smiling.

“How does getting you back to the TARDIS sound?”

“Good,” Clara said.

* * *

 

After a nap and some tea, Clara sat in the TARDIS’s library, reading the Tales of Robin Hood.

            Her head was still buzzing — like it did when she’d had too much to drink, or when she was thinking really hard about something. If she concentrated really hard, it was almost like she could hear voices. But she dismissed it.

            She read in peace for a few minutes, until a crystal-clear voice came, childish and high. “Look at that picture! It’s so pretty!”

            The picture was a painting of Robin Hood and Lady Marian, and it was really pretty. “Who said that?” Clara said out loud.

            “You don’t need to be so loud. We can hear you just fine if you say it inside your head,” came another voice.

            “Because that’s where we are!” the childish voice said.

            Clara dropped the book on her lap, and tried to focus on what was going on. She could see herself in a comfortable alcove, looking out at what looked like a younger and older version of herself.

            “Who are you?” she asked.

            “We were born to save the Doctor,” said the younger one simply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, she is not hallucinating, and yes, she has a minor crush on River. "I didn't realise you were a woman" was more "I didn't realise you were so GORGEOUS".


	2. Two Christmases and a Regeneration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Clara celebrate an awkward Christmas, and the Daleks attack Christmas. Clara still hasn't told him about the echoes. Mostly canon-compliant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m assuming most people reading this fic know what happens in the middle of The Time of the Doctor, so since I don’t have much interesting new stuff to write about that, I’m going to skip to the Christmas cracker scene after the scene with Clara’s family and “he’s Swedish”. If you’re confused, feel free to message me.

Clara looked at the turkey in the oven and sighed. It would be a miracle if she cooked it properly.

            Really, it would be a miracle if she did _anything_ properly this Christmas. Ever since she’d started thinking about how there was going to be a family gathering at her apartment at Christmas, the voices had been louder than ever, some anxious and some trying to calm the anxious ones. None of them seemed to care much about helping _her_ with what she needed to do for Christmas.  From the chatter, she’d picked up that some of them hadn’t had the best family. Oswin’s father had been insistent that her “homosexuality” had been a phase, and the young girl she’d had the most contact with had been an orphan.

            She’d thought about talking to someone about them, but who exactly? Mental health care in England wasn’t the best, and even if she could find a doctor who wanted to talk about hearing voices, or well, other parts of herself, they’d just think she was delusional if she talked about the time stream. She was a good liar, but she didn’t think she could manage it while someone was sat across from her recording her every word.

            She knew she had to tell the Doctor at some point, but no time had ever seemed convenient.

            She walked into the dining room, where her aunt Linda was talking about Uncle Reg. Apparently, he was going to be late, and his “friend” Phil was looking everywhere for him. She said that last bit with a grimace.

            “His _husband_ Phil,” Clara commented, sitting down on the sofa next to her gran.

            “Civil partnership does not a husband make,” Linda huffed.

            “Well, I’m sure you can resume that conversation from last Christmas, and I for one am looking forward to sticking my head out of a window and screaming to God for a merciful death,” Clara said.

Clara’s Gran smiled at her while Oswin interally commented “Nice one”.

            _Thanks,_ Clara said to Oswin. She still felt weird talking to the voices. She knew she was a bit of an egotist, but an echo of herself complimenting her was odd.

            “It’s not an opinion, the church says that…” Linda started.

            “My boyfriend is coming for Christmas!” Clara cut her off spontaneously. _Did one of you do that?_ She asked the voices. She’d gotten accustomed to them doing that sort of thing, but nobody confessed.

            “Oh?” Linda asked.

            “Yes! He works at Coal Hill School with me. He loves science fiction and he has dark hair,” Clara said. Okay, so she was describing Adrian Davies, a history teacher at Coal Hill. Maybe she could get him to pretend to be her boyfriend? But no, that would be weird.

            The Doctor! The Doctor, Clara realised, loved science fiction and had dark hair. Sure, he didn’t work at Coal Hill, but he could just lie about that. That would be less weird than asking her co-worker to be her pretend boyfriend.

* * *

“Emergency! You’re my boyfriend!” Clara said on the phone to the Doctor while setting the table.

            “Ding dong. Okay, brilliant. I may be a bit rusty in some areas, but I will glance at the manual!” the Doctor said on the other side of the phone.

            It was that easy? Even after Clara had thought he would never confess attraction to her? Maybe trying to sacrifice her life for him had helped. “No, no, you’re not actually my boyfriend.”

            “Oh, that was quick! It’s a roller coaster, this call,” the Doctor said, laughing.

            “No, shut up. Christmas dinner. Me cooking,”

            “So?”

            “So… I may have accidentally invented a boyfriend,” Clara said, sighing.

            “Yeah, I did that once, and there’s no easy way to get rid of an android.”

            “No, not an android. I said I was dating a guy who works at Coal Hill. And I said he’s coming to Christmas dinner. And I couldn’t actually ask Adrian to come to Christmas dinner as my date, but you are also someone who likes science fiction and has dark hair, so will you _please_ come to Christmas dinner?” Clara pleaded.

            There was a clattering sound, and after a few minutes, the Doctor picked up the phone again. “Sorry, missed that last bit. Got to dash,” He hung up.

* * *

Eventually, Clara got through, and the Doctor agreed to coming to Christmas with her. When Clara walked into his TARDIS, however, there was another problem.

            “You’re naked!”

            “Yes, I am naked! I wondered if you’d notice,” he said, beaming.

            “Doctor... why are you naked?” Clara asked, backing away a little.

            “Because I was at church!”

            Clara blinked, confused. In a few seconds, the Doctor had his “cool” clothes on again.

            “Better?” he asked.

            “Oh, that was quick,” Clara said with a smile, stepping forward and hugging him. He was actually well-dressed for the occasion. “Thank you. I know this was a ridiculous request.”

            “Hologram clothes, projected directly onto your visual cortex,” he explained.

            “… So you’re still naked underneath?” She sprung away.

            “Everyone’s naked underneath!” he said with a cheerful expression.

            “Urrgh, don’t say things like that. It’s Christmas,” said Clara, and walked to the door of the TARDIS.

* * *

 

Clara and the Doctor walked back to Clara’s flat. “ _Do you really think they’re going to believe you that he’s your boyfriend?”_ the older Clara asked.

            “Shut up, you,” Clara muttered.

            “What?” the Doctor asked.

“Nothing. Wasn’t talking to you,” Clara opened the door of her flat, blushing. No doubt the Doctor thought she was a crazy person, saying “shut up” to nobody. Did the voices even exist? She still didn’t know how real she was supposed to consider them.

            “ _We’re real!”_ the orphan Clara commented indignantly.

            Clara didn’t respond to the young version of herself, and walked into her flat with the Doctor. Linda and her father squinted at the Doctor as he entered, and then averted their eyes. He reached over to shake her relatives’ hands.

            “Hello, handsome. Anyone for Twister?” the Doctor asked. Clara cringed. _“Well, he’s not doing a very convincing job,”_ the older voice commented.

            “So, this is the Doctor. My… boyfriend. Isn’t anyone going to say hello?” Clara asked.

            The Doctor reached over and squeezed Clara’s butt, causing her to jump a little and several of the voices to comment. _“That… might be convincing,”_ the older voice admitted, while the orphan Clara said “ _that’s inappropriate!_ ”

            “Hel-lo,” Clara’s gran gave a small wave. She smelled like alcohol.

            “Excuse me for a moment,” the Doctor said, pulling Clara into the doorway of the kitchen. “Listen, I’ve got an idea to break the ice. Why don’t I project my clothes hologram onto _their_ visual cortexes too?”

            Clara felt herself blushing, and there was a unanimous sigh of frustration. “So, to be clear, no one except me can see your clothes?”

            “Yes, and I’m starting to think it may be causing tension!” the Doctor said, shrugging.

            “Are we playing Twister now?” Gran called out.

            “Go look like you’re dressed,” Clara said, opening the door.

            “Alright, fine!” The Doctor said, backing out of Clara’s flat.

            “Sorry,” Clara said, turning back to her relatives. “He’s Swedish.”

* * *

“Barnable?” the Doctor called out.

            “Clara,” Clara said, stepping into the Doctor’s shop.

            The Doctor dropped the wooden dog and turned to Clara. In his lined face and grey hair, Clara could see the years he’d spent defending Christmas.

            “Hello, Doctor,” She stepped forward.

            “Were you always that young?” he asked.

            “Nah, that was you,”

She smiled down at him as he kissed her hand. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” The Doctor’s eyes lit up and he grabbed a Christmas cracker from the table next to him, handing the other end to Clara.

“Is there a joke?” the Doctor asked, when the cracker broke.

“Extracts from Thoughts on a Clock by Eric Ritchie, Junior,” Clara read.

“Is it a knock knock one? Those are the best,”

“I don’t think so,” Clara studied the paper, and then read out the poem. “And now it’s time for one last bow, like all your other selves. Eleven’s hour is over now. The clock is striking Twelve’s.”

“I don’t get it,” the Doctor said.

Clara looked at his face. She did. Tasha had flown the TARDIS back just in time — the Doctor was dying.

From above the village, the Dalek mothership beeped “The Daleks demand the Doctor!”

“Doctor, what are you going to do?” Clara turned to him.

“Oh, I don’t know. Talk very fast, hope something good happens, take the credit. That’s generally how it works,” the Doctor said, smiling. But in his eyes, Clara could see that he knew his time was up, too. “Not this time, though. This is it.”

“No!” Clara grasped the Christmas cracker in her hand.

“Yes. We saw the future, Clara. This is how it ends,” the Doctor said, looking down at the wooden horse on the floor.

“Change it,” she insisted. The voices were oddly silent. Even the older one didn’t have a judgement to pass on her behaviour.

“Like Tasha said, change the future,” Clara pressed.

“I could have once, when there were Time Lords. Not any more,” the Doctor admitted.

“THE DOCTOR IS REQUIRED!” the voice of the Dalek came, shaking the workshop.

The crack in the wall leading to Gallifrey shined, taunting Clara. Putting her hands on her hips, she walked over to it and stared into it.

“Clara? What are you doing?” the Doctor asked, his voice tinged with nervousness. He was more scared of Clara offending the Time Lords than of his own death, she realised.

“Listen to me, you lot! Listen! Help him. Help him change the future. Do something,” she hissed at the crack.

“DOCTOR!” the Dalek’s voice echoed, and the Doctor hobbled up the stairs, leaving Clara alone with the crack.

“You’ve been asking a question, and it’s time someone told you you’ve been getting it wrong. His name, his name is the Doctor. All the name he needs. Everything you need to know about him. And if you love him, and you should, help him. Help him!”

Clara turned away, and the crack snapped shut. She didn’t know whether the Time Lords had rejected her message or were actually listening to her. Either way, she walked outside to stand with the villagers and see what would happen to the Doctor.

* * *

“You still can’t work up the courage to shoot me, can you?” the Doctor was saying to the Daleks. “You’re still worried I have something up my sleeve. Well, you knock yourselves out this time, boys. I’ve got nothing this time.”

_“Is he going to be okay?”_ the Orphan Clara was asking.

“ _I’ll keep her safe,”_ the older Clara said, and suddenly the voices of both were gone. Amidst all the chaos and the Daleks firing at the townspeople, Clara found herself missing the company, then cursed herself for thinking that. Anyone would think she was crazy if she said she actually missed the voices inside her head when they were gone.

There was a loud noise from the sky — not from the Daleks, this time. The crack that had been in the wall of the workshop opened in the sky, and golden regeneration energy entered the Doctor’s mouth.

Clara gasped. She had a feeling that she’d seen this process before, or that maybe one of her echoes had, but it was so different to see the Doctor’s body chemistry changing right in front of her eyes.

“YOU WILL DIE NOW, DOCTOR. THIS IS THE END OF YOU.” the Dalek was saying. “THE RULES OF REGENERATION ARE KNOWN. YOU HAVE EXPENDED ALL YOUR LIVES.”

The crack closed, and the Doctor jerked up to face the Dalek mothership. “Sorry, what did you say? Did you mention the rules? Now, listen. Bit of advice. Tell me the truth if you think you know it. Lay down the law if you’re feeling brave. But Daleks, never, ever, tell me the rules!”

The clock on Christmas’s tower struck twelve. “EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY! THE DOCTOR IS REGENERATING!” the Dalek cried out.

“Oh, look at this. Regeneration number thirteen. We’re breaking some serious science here, boys. I tell you what, it’s going to be a whopper!”

Clara looked down, perhaps an instinct left over from Orphan Clara’s anxiety. She could hear regeneration energy being fired at the Daleks.

“Get inside! Come on, quickly,” Overcoming her anxiety, Clara gestured towards the survivors and rushed towards the Tower.

The townspeople of Christmas rushed inside the tower, as remnants of the Dalek mothership fell from the sky, narrowly missing a few of them.

“Love from Gallifrey, boys!” Clara could hear the Doctor calling, and shortly afterward, a blast. She flattened herself against the inside of the Tower, trying not to think.

Oswin’s voice was conspicuously absent during all this, although Clara could tell she was there. She just wasn’t talking?

_“Are you okay?”_ she asked.

_“I… guess so,”_ Oswin sighed. “ _It’s hard to see the Doctor fighting with the Daleks. I know they’re evil, but I can’t help but feel bad for them… they’re just made that way. I… was just made that way,”_

“ _You were a Dalek?”_ Clara gasped. One of the townspeople turned to her with a curious expression. Clara just smiled at her until she turned back.

Clara could see the version of her in the red dress nodding. _“Do you want to see?”_

“ _I… guess so,”_ Clara said.

It was as if someone had set up a projector that was inside the whole alcove. Images flashed of Oswin’s life — becoming Junior Manager of Starship Alaska, saying goodbye to her “friend”, crashing into the Asylum of the Daleks, and finally, the conversion.

“ _And you saved the Doctor?”_ Clara breathed. “ _Wow.”_

“ _And his companions,”_ Oswin added. “ _It was my job. Sometimes I miss her, though… Nina.”_

_“Maybe you can find her again someday,”_ Clara tried to reassure Oswin, but she wasn’t really sure Nina even existed.

* * *

 

When the fighting was over, Clara led the townspeople out of the town hall, and set off to find the Doctor.

He was in the TARDIS, his feet propped up, eating a bowl of… fish fingers with custard? A memory stirred somewhere, but she didn’t quite know what she was remembering.

And he was young again.

“Doctor!” Clara cried out, rushing forward to hug him.

He jumped up, dusting the fish finger crumbles off of his jacket, and hugged her.

“You’re young again. You’re okay. You didn’t even change your face,” she said, squeezing him.

“Ha! It’s started. I can’t stop it now. This is just the reset. A whole new regeneration cycle. Oooh,” He ate the last fish finger, and stuck the bowl of custard on the floor, then started the TARDIS’s engines.

“It all just disappears, doesn’t it? Everything you are, gone in a moment, like breath on a mirror. Any moment now, he’s a-coming,”

Clara could feel the TARDIS lifting up. “Who’s coming?” She’d seen regeneration before, but somehow, she’d never thought she’d have to see _her_ Doctor regenerate. She was mortal, after all.

“The Doctor,” The Doctor turned to her, one hand on the console of the TARDIS.

Clara backed away, pointing at him. “But you… you are the Doctor.”

“Yep, and I always will be,” he said. Clara noticed his hand was beginning to glow. “But times change, and so must I,”

The TARDIS projected an image of a girl Clara recognised as one of the Doctor’s old companions — Amy Pond — running up the stairs of the TARDIS.

“The first face this face saw…” the Doctor said wistfully, looking at the hologram. “We all change, when you think about it. We’re all different people throughout our lives. And that’s okay, that’s good, you’ve got to keep moving, so long as you remember all the people you used to be.”

Clara thought of her echoes. She didn’t know what could happen with them. One day, could one of them take over? Become Clara Oswald, like the man she didn’t even know would become the Doctor?

“I will not forget one line of this. Not one day. I swear. I will always remember when the Doctor was me,” the Doctor said, smiling sadly at Clara.

The hologram changed, grew up, and then it was a woman with black painted nails walking down the stairs and touching his face.

“Raggedy man. Good night,” she said.

The Doctor sniffled a little, and untied his bowtie.

“No, no.”

“Hey,” the Doctor said, reaching out for Clara.

“Please don’t change,” She hadn’t said it consciously — she knew he had to. But having memories of a lot of the Doctor’s time stream and seeing the regeneration actually happen were two very different things.

The Doctor jerked backwards, and in one smooth movement, he was different. Taller than the Doctor, with piercing blue eyes framed by angled eyebrows.

“Kidneys! I’ve got new kidneys. I don’t like the colour,” the new man cried out, in a Scottish accent. The same accent as Amy, Clara realised. Was he going to forget Clara, and only remember the first face he’d seen?

“What’s happening?” Clara cried out, as the TARDIS lurched from side to side.

“We’re probably crashing. Oh!”

“Into what?” Clara asked, panicked.

The Scottish man turned to her. “Stay calm. Just one question. Do you happen to know how to fly this thing?”


	3. Can't See Me (Deep Breath: Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Clara crash land in Victorian London, and there is a murder. (This chapter is the first chapter following the events of Deep Breath.)

"Uh... yeah," Clara fumbled with the controls of the TARDIS, but she was going haywire too. Maybe because the Doctor had changed, she had gone back to rejecting Clara as a temporal anomaly.

            After managing to get some control of the TARDIS, Clara turned to the Doctor. He'd dropped off to sleep, not being helpful at all. She examined the interior of the TARDIS, realising she'd have to say goodbye to it soon. In her memories, she'd seen that each different face redesigned their TARDIS.

            She supposed she was grateful that even though the Doctor had changed, he hadn't changed into a woman yet. That might have been just too much change for Clara.

            _"Are we safe?"_ the voice of the orphan Clara came, echoing in the internal foyer. "Are the other people safe?"

            _"Yes. I saved as many of the townspeople as I could. And we're safe in the Doctor's TARDIS,"_ Clara explained. "We're not in Christmas anymore,"

            _"Who's he?"_ the orphan Clara asked, moving Clara's arm so it pointed towards the Doctor, slumped over on his chair.

            _"He's... the Doctor. His new face,"_ Clara explained.

            _"No! He's not supposed to change!"_ the orphan Clara cried out.

            _"It's hard, isn't it?"_ came another voice, softer this time. _"When the Doctor pulled us out of his time stream, it was weird for me. The face was so young,"_

            _"Well, I guess this one will be easier for YOU, then,"_ the older Clara commented, a little snarky.

            _"Hey. Can you drop the attitude? I'm getting really tired of it,"_ Clara snapped.

            _"You would,"_ the older Clara said, rolling her eyes.

            _"Okay, so are we getting him to some place more comfortable than that chair, or not?"_ Oswin asked, maneuvering the body so that it was closer to the Doctor. She picked up his arm and put it over her shoulder.

            _"The closest bedroom is a little bit down the corder to the left. Third door,"_ Clara explained, and they brought the Doctor there.

* * *

 

            The TARDIS had accidentally — or perhaps on purpose — brought Clara and the Doctor to somewhere in the Mesozoic Era. At least it was quiet, Clara rationalised. Okay, not so quiet, she realised, when a dinosaur ended up swallowing the TARDIS.

            "Please, please just take us somewhere I actually know people now!" Clara pleaded with the TARDIS, pulling at the controls while the inside of the little blue box darkened.

            _"Here we go again,"_ the older Clara commented.

* * *

            Clara clung to the railings of the TARDIS as the dinosaur stomped around, trying to dislodge the TARDIS from her throat.

            _"Is it always this scary?"_ the orphan Clara asked. At least the foyer inside Clara's head was well lit. She felt like an idiot thinking that.

            _"Only every Wednesday,"_ the older Clara said.

            The TARDIS landed outside of the dinosaur's throat with a splat. The Doctor, who was supposed to be sleeping, had somehow stumbled through the corridor and up the stairs in the darkness.

            "Rose?" he called out.

            "No. Uh... close enough. We... were swallowed?"  

            "Well, let me apologise to whoever swallowed us! I really don't think I'm very edible," the Doctor said, pushing past Clara and towards the door.

            _"Shouldn't we be being apologised to?"_ the older Clara asked.

            _"Just go with it,"_ Clara said.

            There was a knock on the door of the TARDIS, and a voice came — Strax's. "Hello? Exit the box, and surrender to the glory of the Sontaran Empire!"

            _Oh, thank God_ , Clara thought. Never before had she thought she would be so grateful to see the Sontaran who could never figure out what her gender was.

            A little later, the smoke cleared and Clara could concentrate on what was going on outside of the box. "Oh, you two. The green one and the not green one. Or it could be the other way round, I mustn't prejudge."

            Making her way through the smoke, Clara pushed her hair back and exited the TARDIS.

            Upon seeing her, the Doctor started gesturing wildly. "Oh, you remember. Er. Thingy. The, er, the not-me one. The asking questions one. Names not my area,"

            "Clara," Clara said.

            _"Imagine how he's going to handle all of us!"_ Oswin said with a smile.

            "Well, it might be Clara. Might not be. It's a lottery," the Doctor said.

            "It is Clara," Clara said.

            "Well, I'm not ruling it out," The Doctor turned to the dinosaur, who was bellowing. "Reduce the frequency!"

            "I'm sorry?" Clara said.

            "Your sonic lanterns. Turn them down. You're giving her a headache."

            “Giving who a headache?” Jenny asked.

            “My lady friend. Just an expression, don’t get any ideas,” the Doctor said, waggling his finger at Jenny.

            _“I doubt she was planning on it,”_ said the older Clara.

            “How do you know?” Strax asked, tilting his head to look at the apparently female dinosaur.

            “Come on, Clara. You know I speak dinosaur,” the Doctor said, admonishing Strax.

            “He’s not Clara. I’m Clara,” Clara pointed towards herself.

            “Well, you’re very similar heights. Maybe you should wear labels?” the Doctor said, but his eyelids were drifting closed. Clara did suppose that she and Strax were a similar height, but there was the whole thing where they were different species. “Why, why are you all doing that? Why are you? You’re going all dark and wobbly. Stop that,”

            “I… don’t think we are,” Clara took a step towards the Doctor, worried he would fall asleep on the riverbank of the Thames.

            “Never mind. Everybody take five,” The Doctor held up a hand, swayed, and fell over — onto the riverbank of the Thames.

            “I don’t understand. Who is he? Where’s the Doctor?” Jenny asked, looking down at him.

            “Right here. That’s him. That’s the Doctor,” Clara looked down at the lined face, sleeping as peacefully as one possibly could in the middle of a patch of mud.

* * *

            After Clara and the Paternoster Gang had successfully gotten the Doctor to sleep, they stood outside the bedroom, Clara looking at them in expectation of something.

            “So what now?” she asked.

            “He needs rest,” Vastra explained.

            “So what do we do? How do we fix him?” the older Clara introjected. For all of her snark about Clara’s attachment to the Doctor, it seemed she had gotten one too.

            “Fix him?” Jenny asked.

            Clara was about to talk about getting the Doctor back to not falling asleep every five minutes, but the older version of herself cut her off. “How do we change him back?”

            Vastra’s face hardened, and she turned towards her wife. “Jenny, I will be in my chamber. Would you be kind enough to fetch my veil?”

            “Why, are we expecting strangers?” Jenny asked, looking between her wife and Clara.

            “It would seem there’s already one here,” Vastra said curtly, and turned to leave.

            “What have I done wrong?” Clara’s — or was it not even hers — voice came out plaintive, just wanting approval and her Doctor back.

            “Excuse me, ma’am. The wife doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” Jenny started to turn away, but Clara’s arm reached out for her.

            “Where did he get that face? Why’s it got lines in it? It’s brand new. How can his hair be all grey? He only just got it.”

            Jenny tugged her arm away. “It’s still him, ma’am. You saw him change.”

            Somehow, those words were enough for Clara to regain control. “I know, I do. I know that.”

            “Good,” Jenny said, and made to leave.

            “It’s just…” Clara could feel the feelings of the woman who called herself Miss Oswin flooding into her. “If Vastra changed, if she changed, if she wasn’t the woman you liked?”

            Jenny’s face softened. “I don’t like her, ma’am. I love her. And as to different? Well, she’s a lizard.”

            Clara nodded, understanding, and Jenny left.

            Clara was about to follow her, but she heard muttering from the bedroom. The Doctor was talking in his sleep.

            “The wind bites now, and the world is grey, and I am alone here. Can’t see me. Doesn’t see me. Can’t see me,”

            Clara stepped over to the Doctor’s bed, where he was sleeping, but not in the restful way he had when he was in the TARDIS.

            “Who can’t see it?” Clara looked through the window at the dinosaur in the Thames. “I think everyone can see it.”

            “She can’t see me,” the Doctor muttered, and sighed.

            “I’m right here,” Clara said, reaching out for the Doctor’s hands above the blanket. “It’s me,” But if these words were a reply to Miss Oswin’s desire to “fix him”, she knew it would take more than a few comforting words to make him realise that she didn’t want to leave him.

            Miss Oswin, hearing Clara’s thoughts, cleared her throat. “I didn’t see him regenerate,” she stated, as an explanation.

* * *

            “He looked like your dashing young gentleman friend. Your lover, even.”

            “Shut up.”

            “But he is the Doctor. He has walked this universe for centuries untold, he has seen stars fall to dust. You might as well flirt with a mountain range.”

            “How dare you? How dare you?”

            Clara was standing in front of Vastra and Jenny, gesturing wildly. “Marcus Aurelius, Roman emperor. Last of the five good ‘uns. Stoic philosopher. And the only pin-up I had on my wall when I was fifteen.”

            Vastra watched Clara, curious.

            “I am not quite sure who you think you are talking to right now, Madame Vastra, but I have never had the slightest interest in pretty young men. And for the record, if there was anybody who could flirt with a mountain range, she’s probably standing in front of you right now. We — I jumped into the Doctor’s time stream, not because I was in love with him, but because I knew how much of a disaster it would be for the _universe_ if it was destroyed. Maybe because I had the foolish idea that I couldn’t be important without doing something extraordinary. And now — I’ve seen things. I know his life, I know it better than you do. I’ve seen everything from the Academy of Gallifrey to the most beautiful garden in all of time and space. Just because my pretty face has turned your head, do not assume that I am so easily distracted.”

            Clara finished her speech to applause from Jenny and a small smile from Vastra.

“Well, goodness me. The lake is ruffled at last. I often wondered what you’d be like when you lost your temper.”

“So you were… testing me?” Clara stared at Madame Vastra. _Testing us? To see if we were worthy?_

“Yes,” Vastra said simply.

“Why?” Clara asked.

“I wanted to make sure you were still Clara,” Vastra explained. “Now come with me. We have a dinosaur to investigate.”

* * *

The Doctor had left his bedroom — and not just because he wanted to do something other than sleeping in Vastra and Jenny’s house. When Clara and the others heard the dinosaur burning, it became clear that the Doctor knew it had been in danger and would be nearby.

Strax drove the carriage through the streets of London, stopping below the parapet. The Doctor was standing there, looking down at the remains of the dinosaur in helplessness, his hands shaking.

“She was scared. She was scared… and alone. I brought her here and look what they did,” He pointed down at the fire in the Thames.

“Who or what could have done this thing?” asked Vastra, picking up her skirts and running closer to the site of the explosion with the others.

“No.”

“I’m sorry?” Vastra looked up at the Doctor.

“No. That is not the question. That is not where we start.”

“The question is how. The flesh itself has been combusted,” Strax observed, looking at the site of the fire with perhaps more fascination than was appropriate considering the moral gravity of the situation.

“No, no, shut up,” The Doctor continued to gesture. “What do you all have for brains, pudding? Look at you. Why can’t I meet a decent species? Planet of the pudding brains.”

Clara moved closer to the Doctor, but didn’t touch him this time. “Doctor, I know you’re upset, but you need to calm down and talk to us. What is the question?”

The Doctor looked at Clara, his face looking like he was fighting between trusting her and brushing her off like he had Strax.

Eventually, he settled on the former.

“A dinosaur is burning in the heart of London. Nothing left but smoke and flame. The question is, have there been any similar murders?”

Vastra exclaimed, while the Doctor continued his thinking out loud.

“Question two. If all the pudding brains are gawking, then what is he?” The Doctor indicated a man walking away from the disaster, unconcerned.

“He seems remarkably unmoved by the available spectacle,” Vastra observed.

“Do you think that is whoever —” Clara started, only to be cut off by a splash. The Doctor had jumped into the Thames.

“What’s he doing? He’ll drown,” Clara hissed, turning to Vastra.

“I very much doubt it,” replied Vastra.

“Why?”

“There has been a murder,” Vastra explained. “The Doctor has taken up the case. If we are to see him again, we must do the same.”


End file.
